


Keep Me Warm

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Morning Sex, Non-Linear Narrative, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yaku wakes up the morning of his nineteenth birthday with his boyfriend at his side and the promise of a day full of nothing. Well, nothing he doesn't really, <i>really</i> want to do as he falls for Kuroo all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [medeadea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/medeadea/gifts).



> This was a prompt from the Things You Said meme on Tumblr: things you said when you thought i was asleep

The morning is hot and lazy, as summers in the city tend to be, but today is different for Yaku Morisuke for a variety of reasons.

First of all, it’s Saturday, so he is under no obligation get up anytime soon. He likes to have a lie-in every once in a while to recharge his batteries, and he’s about due for one.

Second, the long, languid form of his boyfriend is wrapped around nearly every body part of his necessary to extricating himself from bed. Kuroo is a lot taller and heavier than Yaku, so it would be a challenge to move his naked limbs (Kuroo doesn’t believe in pajamas in the summer, Yaku has learned.) out of the way without waking him.

And third, it’s his birthday and he doesn’t want to disturb this moment, which is the best gift he could possibly receive.

 

* * *

 

**_Four months earlier_ **

“Yeah, okay, I will be there in a few minutes. Thank you.” Yaku hangs up the phone as he considers the call from the Tokyo Metropolitan University administration department, asking him to ‘please stop by the main office for a quick discussion with a counselor.’

He assumes it’s about the fact that his supposed roommate, Harada Sakai, is nowhere to be found, even after three days of waiting for him to disturb the tentative peace Yaku has found in this new and admittedly stressful place. He still doesn’t know why he had insisted on living on campus when the commute from his parents’ house is only a half hour by train. There are students who commute from two prefectures away every day.

The administration building is very large, very grand, and very daunting to Yaku. He’d take a warp speed spike from Bokuto twelve times over trying to find the right office in this place. After looking around for a bit, he wanders over to the receptionist and haltingly recounts his purpose there.

“Yaku-kun, we’ve been expecting you!” the receptionist says cheerily. “I’ll show you back.”

Yaku gratefully follows the young man into a massive corridor full of doors that look Exactly Alike. He gulps at the thought that he might’ve been left to his own devices here, but that feeling is nothing compared to the sight awaiting him outside the correct door.

“Kuroo?” he gasps as he spies his former volleyball captain, sitting on the floor next to the door, lazily thumbing through Twitter.

Kuroo shoves his phone into his pocket and stands up with a broad grin. “Well, look at what the cat dragged in!”

The receptionist’s eyes widen. “You know each other? Maybe you’d like to solve each other’s problem.”

They both look at each other questioningly as the receptionist opens the door and darts into the room. A minute later, he returns with a large grin. “You can go in now.”

Yaku doesn’t like this at all.

A small but imposing woman, probably a good ten centimeters shorter than Yaku, stands from behind her desk in what can only be described as a power suit. He flinches into an instinctive bow, ignoring the fact that Kuroo is watching him behave like a jackass with that smug smile of his.

“Welcome to Tokyo Metropolitan University, both of you, and thank you for coming at such short notice. I’m Kaidou Mitsu, the officer of admissions here at the university.” She inclines her head to acknowledge them, which is not an unexpected gesture at all, but the formality of it makes Yaku feel like shaking until his skeleton rattles out. Her voice is as sharp as her attire, and people don’t get to have cavernous offices like this without being important. And important people never need freshmen without a good reason.

Perhaps they’re not discussing his roommate. Maybe they’re telling him that they made a mistake in accepting his application and that they’re sending him on his way without a refund and without a degree.

“Relax,” Kuroo scolds, as if reading Yaku’s thoughts. “They’re not kicking you out.” Kuroo chuckles and nudges him towards a second chair opposite Kaidou-san’s tall and imposing executive-style office chair.

“You don’t know that,” Yaku hisses under his breath as he takes the proffered seat.

Kaidou-san smiles and shakes her head. “I’m afraid Kuroo-kun is correct. You’re not in any trouble, Yaku-kun.”

“Told ya.”

Yaku’s glare did nothing to put Kuroo in his place, the bastard.

Ignoring the silent war between the two students in front of her, Kaidou-san pushes a small stack of paper towards Yaku. “As you might have guessed, your current dormitory situation is very unusual. The student assigned to be your roommate has dropped out of university due to a death in the family, leaving an open spot for on-campus housing for several wait-listed students.

“You’re here to take a look at the next five young men in line to receive housing, read their profiles and requirements, and decide if there are any of them you absolutely cannot live with.” She flicks her finger, and like he is her puppet, Yaku turns the pages and scans the documents for anything that might be a deal-breaker.

He doesn’t get far — the middle of the second page — before Kaidou-san interjects. “However, the front desk receptionist has informed me that you might able to help me solve two problems today, Yaku-kun.”

Yaku lifts his head, vaguely remembering the receptionist’s words, and bit his lip. “Ma’am?”

“Kuroo-kun was assigned to a roommate who falsified his housing criteria, and as a result received a highly incompatible dormitory assignment.”

Kaidou-san says this as if this clears everything up just fine, and at first, Yaku doesn’t understand. It takes a few seconds for it to hit him. “Wait, you don’t mean —” He stares at Kuroo. “You want him to live with me?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not an order, but the happy circumstance of you two knowing each other and, as I can see from your student profiles, you attended the same school and participated in the same volleyball club makes the resolution to both your issues seem far easier than they did this morning.”

Kuroo smirks and nudges Yaku with his shoulder. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. You can cook, and I’ll help you with your English homework. Just like old times.”

Both of them look at Yaku expectantly, and with a sinking feeling that he’s already been overruled, Yaku mourns the loss of his recently enjoyed peace and quiet, a substance to which his former teammate seems to be highly allergic, as he slowly nods and says, “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Yaku stretches his limbs and burrows further into Kuroo’s side rather than consider getting up any further. The day is supposed to be a scorcher, and their dorm room only has a fan to fight off the heat, but Yaku doesn’t care at the moment. It’s still just cool enough that their tangle of limbs is more comfortable than not.

However, as Kuroo grumbles in his sleep and tugs Yaku into an uncomfortable position, Yaku decides that they don’t have to get out of bed, but waking up might be in order.

“Kuroo, wake up,” he murmurs across Kuroo’s sensitive ears. There is a moan in response, and Yaku knows he’s almost won. “Tetsu,” he whispers, his breath warm and hot against Kuroo’s cheek, and with a broad grin, Kuroo’s eyes slowly flutter open.

“Morning, you.” Kuroo tugs Yaku closer (and alleviates the odd crick forming in Yaku’s lower back) and on top of his stomach, with only a thin sheet separating their bare flesh. “Happy birthday.”

Yaku blushes and accepts the light smack of Kuroo’s lips on his, enjoying the ensuing brush of their cocks against each other way more than he should. He isn’t sure if morning sex is on the docket for the day, but he wouldn’t be at all upset if it is.

When Kuroo’s hands trail down Yaku’s sides and cup his bottom, the latter thinks he might get his wish as he groans in appreciation.

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Kuroo lets out an exaggerated sigh. “You only want me for my body. My life is a lie.”

Rolling his hips, Yaku gives Kuroo an incredulous look before ghosting his lips down the long, elegant column of Kuroo’s neck. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Tetsu,” Yaku scolds, punctuating every word with a kiss or a soft bite.

As fingers dig into the soft flesh of his ass, Yaku relishes the warmth spreading over Kuroo’s cheeks and decides that he likes the idea of being the teasing one for a change. “I’d rather put something else in my mouth, to be honest.”

He knows his face is red, but Yaku is not disappointed when he can see how Kuroo is falling apart beneath him. With a smile that he hopes is an approximation of Kuroo’s signature Cheshire cat grin, Yaku slowly sits up and rakes his nails slowly down the expanse of Kuroo’s toned chest. He hasn’t really tried to be seductive or overtly sexual before, but it’s his birthday and his day off and he’ll try almost anything once that doesn’t have the power to kill or maim.

Kuroo’s head lolls back as his breathing becomes more and more erratic. A few choice words slip out of his mouth, and Yaku can feel the growth of arousal beneath him.

Oh, he can get used to this, for sure.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds to divest themselves of the suddenly restricting fabric between them.

 

* * *

 

**_Three months earlier_ **

“I can’t believe you!” Yaku growls as he sees the remnants of his stash of fresh vegetables smoldering in a skillet while smoke wafts through their tiny dorm. “You have an entire shelf in the refrigerator full of food, and you burn _my_ stuff?”

Kuroo gives him a half-hearted shrug. “It just sounded good. I’ll replace them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Yaku feels like he’s a split second away from tearing out his hair. Or Kuroo’s hair. God knows it would be doing him a favor. “How about you leave my stuff alone like I leave your stuff alone, and try not to burn down the damn building!”

He’s shouting. He knows he’s shouting, and even more that it’s out of character, but in the past month, the constant exposure to Kuroo has whittled down every last splinter of patience Yaku possesses until he’s seething in a slurry of sawdust and irritation.

Sighing, Yaku decides to live and let live and says, “It’s fine. Just . . . ask before you mess with my stuff, okay?”

But when he looks over to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, he’s surprised to find his roommate staring out the window with a sad expression on his face. “Don’t you miss them, Yaku?”

It doesn’t take much to figure out who ‘them’ is. “Yeah. They drove me nuts, especially Lev, but I do miss them. I miss playing.”

Kuroo plays on an intramural team at the university, but Yaku had made the tough decision to leave volleyball behind when he signed up for an extra class for the semester. He can play volleyball to his heart’s content when he graduates, but now is the time to hit the books and get through the ever-difficult first year.

“Interhighs start in a month. You wanna go check them out?”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t, but Yaku can’t help but wonder how Fukunaga is handing Yamamoto as his vice-captain, or if Lev actually understands volleyball yet. Probably not, but it’s nice to hope, he thinks as he mutters, “Yes,” as if his arm is being twisted.

“Excellent.” Kuroo grins and picks up the pan of burnt vegetables. “Some of this might still be edible if you pick off the outsides.”

“You are so gross.”

 

* * *

 

Beads of sweat roll down Yaku’s back as he furiously thrusts his hips into the hands gripping their cocks together. He’s long given up on the pretense of playing coy, and now he just wants to come hard and fast so he can use it as an excuse to lie abed all day.

In his concentration, Yaku had closed his eyes, but as he slowly opens them and looks down, he notices Kuroo watching him intently through his own fevered panting.

“What’s with that face?” Yaku gasps between ragged breaths.

“You are so beautiful,” comes the enviably articulate reply.

His cheeks burning, Yaku leans forward and fastens their mouths together, and as Kuroo finds his release, Yaku swallows the sound and thinks nothing tastes quite like it.

 

* * *

 

**_Two months earlier_**

Well, so much for carrying on the legacy of questing after Karasuno at nationals.

Yaku hates to admit it, but this year’s Nekoma team is not nearly as strong as the year before. Though he won’t say it out loud, he thinks it is largely due to Kuroo’s vocal (if slightly embarrassing) leadership. Kenma looks less motivated than usual as Fukunaga appears to be trying to explain something important to him.

At least Shibayama is holding up, even if the execution of the attacks aren’t making good use of the consistent presence of the team’s reliable libero.

He looks the side and notices Kuroo’s eyes riveted on the court, with his fingers slowly stroking his jaw in thought.

Yaku’s mouth goes dry for reasons he doesn’t entirely understand at the thought of possibly touching the slight growth of stubble there and feeling it bristle under his fingers. He gulps and looks away. “They’ve been better,” he almost squeaks as he forces his gaze back on the court.

There is an almost undiscernible chuckle form Kuroo. “Don’t count them out, yet,” he chides. “Kenma’s got something planned. I can feel it.”

And Kuroo is, as usual, right. After a devastating loss in the first set, Nekoma takes a come from behind win of the second set and dominates in the third. The other team looks as shocked as Yaku, but Kuroo doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.

“How did you know?”

With a shrug, Kuroo stands and stretches his long limbs. Yaku certainly doesn’t stare at the sliver of hard stomach that is exposed as his shirt rides up. His mouth most definitely doesn’t feel like it’s full of sand.

“You’d be surprised what I notice.” Kuroo smirks, and Yaku gulps as he follows his roommate to the players’ hallway to visit with the team.

Later that night, after the train has trundled them back to the university and they’re a few strides away from their doorway, Kuroo stops walking and slides his hand in Yaku’s.

Cheeks flaming, Yaku sputters some semblance of, “What are you doing?” but Kuroo doesn’t answer. Instead, he uses that damnable calm of his to unlock the door and let them in.

Once they’re sufficiently closed off from an audience, Yaku turns on Kuroo and demands, “What are you up to?”

The only answer he receives are taut hips pressing him against the wall as warm, dexterous lips coax a moan from Yaku. It starts to fall into place. The reaction to Kuroo’s body, and the desire to touch him in places he shouldn’t.

Oh, now it makes sense.

Kuroo’s long, languorous kiss ends too quickly for Yaku’s taste, but as he opens his mouth to breathe, he finds that he’s almost dizzy from the lack of proper air. Or from his own bubbling attraction throwing him off kilter. Hell, he can’t tell anymore.

With a chuckle, Kuroo takes Yaku’s hand and grazes it over the same growth the latter had been admiring earlier as if he had been privy to Yaku’s innermost thoughts. “Is it everything you imagined?”

Not willing to admit that it was that and more, Yaku squints and huffs. “You’re the worst.”

“Never!” Kuroo floridly gestures towards himself. “I, good sir, am cute as hell.”

 _Yeah, you are_ , Yaku thinks but decides to demonstrate instead.

 

* * *

 

There’s always a suspiciously handy supply of washcloths near the bed they usually share, and Yaku can’t help but think that Kuroo plans for them to pleasure each other every time they sleep together. He would be annoyed at how often this proves to be correct, so he doesn’t. Instead, he accepts the slow, steady stroke of the soft towel returning them both to an acceptable state.

It gets him every time, seeing how gentle Kuroo is after they make love, despite how fevered or rough the actual act might be. At first, Yaku didn’t understand, but now he does. For as long as they’ve known each other, Yaku has craved peace and contentment. He just never knew Kuroo had been paying attention for so long to absorb this piece of Yaku. It’s part of their canon, now, the unhurried aftercare that drizzles ash over their desire until there are only embers to keep them warm and alive.

It doesn’t take long for Kuroo to drift back to sleep, and Yaku is soon to follow. However, he takes one last long, loving glance at the guy who has turned his tidy, private world into a jungle gym in all the best ways, and he whispers, “I love you, Tetsu,” into his ear as he decides that sleeping well past noon on today of all days is an extremely good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this ballooned. It wasn't supposed to be this long, but I'm allergic to writing ships I don't ship without some sort of get-together sequence.


End file.
